the M stands for Meek, bitch.

for years i've accounted the void of my personal success to lacking perserverance. but tonight, as i was watching the other cocktail waitress, michelle, make all my money, it hit me: i'm just not aggressive.

michelle and i have an agreement: whomever takes the lounge the first night takes the tables the next night because the tables is where the money is at and the lounge is where people who just want water while they wait for their reservation; or where people who tell you they don't want a drink then walk straight up to the bar and get four martinis which they will inevitably take back to the lounge and leave the glasses when their done, sit.

on friday night i typically take the tables because i'm the first one to get there, however, this past friday i took the lounge seeing as how i had already a few patrons in the lounge area by the time michelle got to work and keeping the tables in addition to what i already had would have resulted in michelle watching me make all the bens. it wasn't ideal for me but i did it; i did it even though i knew big fat tab mike madono was going to be sitting in the table section; i did it because michelle agreed that the tables would be mine the next night. i was cool.

then tonight, as i went to greet my first table, michelle informed that our manager wanted her to have the tables and that was i was going to be in the lounge again. nearing the end of the month when rent is due and approaching is a nye's trip to new york city, i was too finicially strapped to take it in stride; plus, my feelings were hurt. i found our manager and asked why i had been put in the lounge after i had already been there once that weekend. she was clueless as to what in hell i was talking about. it seemed to be that michelle had lied. after interogation, i found out the truth. the truth: because michelle got there first she felt justified in claiming the tables, hoping i wouldn't second guess the evenings orders. it was an aggresive move. it was a move that resulted in her making probably about $150 more than me.

opposite from the night before when i helped her out by bussing, tonight i watched leisurely and vindictively as she couldn't handle the tables and bitched and huffed like the little uptown-gold-digging -princess she is.

another manager noticing i wasn't my usual self, that my smile had been turned upside down, took me aside to find out what was up. i explained it all and he replied, as if it was normal, "that's just the type of world we live in." and to that i responded, "not in my world".

and that's the thing, i don't care enough about success or wealth or, for that matter, money in general, to abide by the "survival of the fittest" rules. our existence is so short-i don't understand these people who waste it being so concerned with materialism and status (be it finicial, intellectual, social, or spiritual.) that they fail to ever be genuinely happy and content; that they fail to live and let live; that they fail to be nice and respectful of others. often when driving in my car, gazing out at buildings or sitting in traffic, i'm reminded how small my and the rest of civilizations signifance is in the scheme of life. not of life as we imagine it-but life in it's infinite sense. it's humbling really.

there is nothing i can say that can't be said: the beatles had it right all along.